


Dewfall to Starfall

by Rubynye



Category: Dungeons and Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Ilithid, Telepathy, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By moonlight, Lalinae meets an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illithid">ilithid</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dewfall to Starfall

**Author's Note:**

> Posted (belatedly) for the Equinox. I originally intended this to be a Star Trek holodeck fantasy and Lalinae to be Chekova, but the story had a mind of its own.
> 
> Content Advisory: Het, purple prose, turgid tentacles, _Dungeons & Dragons_ setting. However, nobody's brains get eaten.  
> All Thanks To: [](http://twinsarein.livejournal.com/profile)[**twinsarein**](http://twinsarein.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/tentacle_fest/profile)[**tentacle_fest**](http://community.livejournal.com/tentacle_fest/), for which I wrote this.

Lalinae couldn't settle to sleep. The springtide air, full of rich scents, teased over her skin like an endless brush of fingers, the woods whispered and rustled like voices calling at the edge of her hearing, and her blood thrummed within her in such spate she could hardly shut her eyes. Once the others of her adventuring band had quieted to soft snores and steady breathing, she unrolled herself from her blanket, rose and slipped on her boots, and set out into the whispering woods.

The leaves stroked along her arms and calves, the roots kept themselves from her smoothed path, and she followed the dappled moonlight to a glade walled thickly by trees, the Moon glimmering through their leaves and water laughing in the distance and deep moss springy underfoot. And in that glade a man stood waiting.

No, not a man, for he wore long overlapping robes of night-dark spider-silk, and his fingers were far longer than normal, and his head was a demonfish with four waving tentacles and two large liquid-black eyes.

Lalinae's feet bore her right up to him, to the uncanny gleam of moonlight on his bronze-sheened glabrous skin and the bright glints in his depthless eyes, and her instinctive alarm felt distant as a shout from camp as she said, "You are ilithid."

"And you are beautiful," he responded, his voice rich and warm and seemingly murmured from all around her, whispered along her skin, echoing inside her mind.

All her self-preserving instincts screamed from long leagues hence as she stepped closer, offering her hands, as long scaly fingers wound around hers and tentacles reached from his face to caress her cheeks and brow. "Is this a trap?" she asked like one enspelled, helpless to protect herself, walking into the wolf's jaws. "Do you mean to consume my mind?"

"Upon my tentacles, no." She was close enough for eldritch silks to whisk along the sides of her legs, close enough to breathe in his scent, brine rather than musk but not unpleasant at all. "All I would have of you is pleasure." She tipped her head back, thinking to say more, but a tentacle pressed her lips, firm-skinned, tasting of salt and life when she licked it, flexing muscularly along her tongue when she let it in. A voice inside her still insisted on the danger, but it foundered under the rising tide of desire.

The ilithid lover laid Lalinae down upon the moss and stripped off her clothes swiftly and plainly as one might peel an apple, trailing a round-lipped mouth along her skin, tentacles wriggling caresses over her body as he pulled sucking kisses over her breasts and throat, ribs and belly. He pressed her hands to the loam and she struggled, not to free herself but under the mingled sensations, as tentacles stroked her tongue and flicked her nipples, rippling behind her knees and twining between her thighs. He warbled low and steady to her, beyond the rhythm of breath, a directionless croon that vibrated into her skin and pressed into her ears against the thundering surge of her blood; he suckled along her verge, his broad shoulders pushing her thighs asunder, his twining tongue laving each of her folds in turn.

Long-fingered hands gripped her hips, tentacles coiled round her wrists, one squeezing a rhythmic tingling spiral into her breast and the other tugging from her mouth to attend her other nipple as her breath hitched in her lungs; he fastened that mouth over her, pulling a hot tingling suction along all her folds and the nub of her pleasure, and she screamed, arching into him, kicking her heels against his stone-strong back, shuddering around his tongue plunging within her. It was hot and wet and supple, twisting like no human tongue could, like another tentacle, and she realized in confused ecstacy that as he shifted his grip up to her knees he'd pulled the tentacles from her wrists to join his tongue; they stroked her ceaselessly, writhing within her, and she squeezed around them, pushing against the press of his impossibly long-fingered hands, and peaked again, spread open and helpless to him.

He went on relentlessly, till it was too much, till she felt her brain would burst and she'd die, stroking and sucking and rutting her all at once with mouth and tentacles as she tossed her head in the forest loam and peaked for him over and again till she felt melted down into quaking jelly. Tears streaked her face, she couldn't breathe for gasping, and he thrust his tongue within her till she writhed upon it, or tried to, but he held her fast by both knees and drank her pleasure till she peaked once more like her heart would explode.

When she subsided, shaking and gasping, he sucked kisses over her thighs and her belly as he knelt up, and she lay limp and trembling on the green-scented moss, smelling it crushed by their exertions, trying to open her eyes. At the whispering rustle of his robes parting she briefly quailed, but she wanted it too, she wanted to know, to feel, so she reached up to brace her hands against the silk-wrapped muscles of his arms as he covered her, and he pushed her thighs wide with a sinuous twist of his hips, pressing the blunt heat of his prick into her.

It was slick and wet, she was open and sopping, but still--- but then the head breached her, popping through and in, and she gasped and shuddered. The feel was incredible, stretch and crackle as she strained to fit him, as he trembled and kept pushing, sliding impossibly deep within her. It hurt, it ached, it was glorious. She dug her nails into his arms and his tentacles flickered over her mouth and tight-closed eyes and arched throat, stroking like fond fingertips; she concentrated on opening herself to him and he sank effortfully deeper and deeper as her sinews stretched taut. And still he pushed his great huge prick within her, like blood-hot stone, no give at all, until heavy eggs thunked against her rump as granite-planed hips met hers.

They paused, then, as she gasped and shook with him buried in the strained depths of her body and his pleased hum suffusing her, her feet suspended soles-up and her breath almost crushed from her by his stony weight, heavier than a man's. After some little time he pulled back, her flesh clinging along his all the way, tentacles caressing her temples and lips as if in reassurance, trailing over her throat and collarbones, curling along her shaking breasts.

And then he slammed in, all of it again so fast, such a thump to her innards, and she screamed with the pounding, rising hot pleasure, as he crooned inside her mind and rutted her, each stroke harder as the tentacles grew more delicate, the breath knocked from her as he smashed pleasure into her and the tentacles showered fluttering sucker-kisses over her face and chest and shoulders. She tingled with flame around him, sensate and turgid and overfull, her skin afire under the tentacles writhing seemingly everywhere; it was overwhelming, it felt like it should kill her, it felt wonderful beyond belief, until she could feel nothing else but her tingling, sweating skin and the glowing soreness within her.

It was too much, too much, her eyes rolling back in her head, sparks like falling stars racing across her sight; she peaked, and his voice within her multiplied thousandfold, an infinite harmony of a cry as she clutched and fluttered around him, a tentacle pressing her tongue as she screamed around it, her heart thrust up into her throat as she arched and thrashed up off the earth, lightning sizzling through her wits. He shuddered hard enough to shake her all through, and peaked so hard and so much she felt the spurts inside her flowing along his length, bubbling out in a hot froth over the sore heat of her tender folds.

On quivering arms he held himself up, his body jerking, each judder of his peak a push  
into her that was small only compared to what went before; finally, he collapsed beside her like a cliff crumbling, tugging from her flesh with a wet sucking as her body clung to him even now.

"Oh most fulfilling beauty," he said within her mind, winding an arm round her, flexing tentacles stroking her face as his many-jointed fingers curved through her curls. In the wake of him a great wild joy rushed into her, filling up the space he'd battered out, swamping her restlessness with satiety, and she laughed even as those fingers slid down to drape over her throat and those tentacles twined through her tumbled hair. "Oh, lovely maiden," he crooned to her, dragging his silk-rough hand over her sore breasts and tender belly, laying it over where her womb glowed like a coal within her, "Well and gloriously met by moonlight."

Lalinae laughed again, too replete for words, splayed out under his arm and stroked by slow sleepy tentacles like separate wandering fingers as she swiftly sank to drowsing.

She woke to moonset darkness and the eldritch gleam of his huge liquid eyes, and now she remembered to be afraid, but his fingers curled and flexed along her cheek, his tentacles brushed her face and shoulders with feathery touches and tiny round-suckered kisses. "Are you rested enough?" she heard all around her, and nodded, needing no words. There was a banked soreness all down her skin and in the joins of her thighs, a sweet ache she'd keep as a memento but nothing to hamper her movement now. "Then you must wake your companions." Tentacles rippled and curled over her ears and throat, but she had the sudden thought of a smile. "Tell them an ilithid city lies under the bluest mountain and your course must change to avoid it."

"Why?" she asked or thought, "My thanks for the warning, but why?"

"Because I remember who I was," he told her, and now in her thoughts she saw a young man in truth, long sheened hair bound in a thong, nut-brown skin and moonlight-gray eyes. "I remember the boy I was before I was made this creature, and I warn travelers when I may. Now go, my sweet maiden, the forest will be light to you as day."

Lalinae blinked then and found it was, every bole and frond and twig outlined in low golden light like sunset through mist. "Thank you," she said aloud, feeling the sweet soreness as her lips shaped the words, and one more stroke of a tentacle along her jaw, but when she looked around, he was gone.


End file.
